


tommyjon

by ymorton



Series: podsa tumblr fic [2]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: a collection of all the tommyjon (tommy/jon lovett) ficlets i've posted on tumblr, ranging from a paragraph to ~1000 words. very loose. read at your own risk.





	1. don't worry about me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm in the process of moving shippy content off tumblr and onto ao3. most fills will have the original prompt in bold + the fill, or even LESS context than that. they're messy, informal, and poorly written but i've decided to give up on the idea that ao3 is only for perfectly polished works. hope you enjoy!

** tommyjon + don’t worry about me **

“Here,” Elijah says, shoving the phone in Tommy’s face. Tommy looks up, rubbing Lucca’s belly as she wriggles happily on the carpet. “It’s Lovett. And he’s whiny.” 

Tommy snorts and takes it with his free hand. “Hello?” 

“I’m not _whiny_ ,” Lovett whines. “Shut up, Elijah-” 

“It’s me, Lovett.” Tommy laughs and scoops Lucca onto his lap. “What’s up? Why are you whining?” 

“Okay, I reject the premise. I am not whining.” Lovett breaks off to cough, deep and wet. Next is something that sounds suspiciously like hocking a loogie. Tommy winces and pulls the phone away from his ear. “I’m sick.” 

“I know, Lovett. You were doped up on Dayquil last week, we all had to deal with it.” 

“It’s worse now though. My neck feels all stiff. I might have meningitis.” 

“Oh Jesus, are you on WebMD?” Tommy sighs. He knows exactly why Lovett’s neck hurts. It’s because when he’s sick he lays on his stomach in bed for hours at a time scrolling through Twitter and refusing to move. “You don’t have fucking meningitis, Lovett. You have a cold. Drink tea.” 

“I hate tea,” Lovett mutters murderously. 

“Drink that tea Emily bought you. The lemon one, you like that one.” 

Lovett groans. 

“You’re being dramatic,” Tommy says, laughing. Lucca nips at his fingers but she gets bored after a minute and wanders away to bug someone more attentive. “Just try to sleep a little. Take some more Dayquil.” 

“I’m out of Dayquil,” Lovett says, extremely close to whining.  

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Then just try to sleep, Lovett. Jesus, what do you want me to do? Come over there and put a cool washcloth on your forehead?” 

“I mean, you could.” 

“Lovett.” 

He sighs. 

“Fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just lay here.” 

“Don’t die,” Tommy advises, and Lovett mutters something and hangs up. Tommy snorts and sticks his phone in his pocket. 

He finishes up a couple emails, eats the rest of his lunch, and goes to fetch Lucca from wherever she’s been lapping up attention. She curls up in the passenger seat, tuckered out from playing all morning, and doesn’t wake up til he pulls into Lovett’s driveway. 

“C’mere, baby girl,” he murmurs, scooping her up. “Let’s go.” 

The house is hushed, all the curtains drawn. Lovett’s asleep on the sofa on his side, face almost pressed against the back cushion. Pundit’s nestled against his legs, because she never passes up a nap. Tommy huffs a laugh as he looks at him and bends down to touch his knuckles to Lovett’s forehead. Warm, but not feverish. Lovett groans and curls away from him. 

Tommy straightens up, Lucca still drowsy under his arm, and goes into the kitchen. He lets Lucca out in the backyard, shuts the screen door quietly, and starts clearing up dishes. Christ, it’s a pit in there. Tommy would feel more sympathetic, but it’s like that even when Lovett isn’t sick. There’s a dozen dirty mugs on the counter and at least as many cans of Diet Coke. 

He gets everything in the dishwasher, tosses the cans in the recycling, wipes down the counters because they’re sticky, and then surveys his work. Better. Much better. So much better that Lovett’s probably going to fake being sick just so Tommy’ll come over and clean. Tommy sighs. 

Lovett’s out of clean mugs so Tommy washes one out and makes him a cup of the lemon tea. He almost wets a washcloth in the sink but that might be a bit much. He’s not Florence fucking Nightingale.  

Lovett’s still asleep, on his other side now, back to the sofa, shirt twisted and riding up his side so Tommy can see a wide swath of pale skin above his boxers. He watches quietly for a minute, cup steaming in his hand. 

Lucca barks from outside and Tommy jumps, hot tea sloshing over his wrist. 

“Shit,” he mutters, setting it down, wiping his wrist on his shirt and standing up.  

Lucca’s pawing at the screen door, whining, and Tommy murmurs and scoops her up. 

He dangles Lucca in front of Lovett’s face, holding her paws so she can’t scratch him. Lucca starts licking and Tommy snorts. 

“Good mooorning,” he whispers, laughing. 

Lovett’s face scrunches up and he groans. Lucca likes that. She licks eagerly at Lovett’s open mouth and Tommy pulls her back, choking a laugh. That might’ve been too much. 

“What the fuck,” Lovett mumbles, cracking one eye open. “Tommy?” 

“Hey,” Tommy whispers. “Lucca wanted to say hi.” 

Lovett groans again, and rolls onto his back. “Did you just let your dog lick my mouth?” 

“That was an accident.” 

“How was it an accident? You’re holding her in front of my face.” Lovett squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, bleary. He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh.”

“Here, have some tea.” Tommy grabs it and Lovett slowly pushes himself up to sitting. “The lemon stuff.” 

“I’ve had so much of this shit in the past two days,” Lovett says, voice hoarse, taking the mug from Tommy’s hands. “And it’s not helping. It’s false advertising.”

“Sorry, man.” Tommy watches him take a sip. “You don’t feel too hot, I don’t think you have a fever.” 

“When did you _feel_ me?” Lovett gives him a suspicious look. “How long have you been here? What time is it?” 

“Dude, you’ve been asleep for three days,” Tommy says, very seriously, and Lovett snorts, cupping his mug with both hands. “No, it’s like four. I’ve only been here for a half hour or so.” 

“Just sitting here watching me? Creep.” 

“No, asshole. I cleaned your kitchen. Which was disgusting, by the way.” Tommy plops Lucca in Lovett’s lap, face going hot. 

Lovett eyes him warily and doesn’t say thank you. He puts the mug down and scoops Lucca up into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “How was the office?” 

“Fine,” Tommy says, nudging them both aside so he can sit on the couch. He kicks his feet up on the coffee table, sending a few crumpled tissues to the ground. “Great, actually. We got a lot done. Everyone was just so _productive_ for some reason. No tangents about Starbucks life hacks, no rants about Star Wars-” 

Lovett sounds genuinely annoyed when he says, “Ha. Ha. Good for you.” 

Tommy’s chest tightens for a second. Fucking- Lovett. Lovett’s such an idiot. He reaches out to scritch Lucca behind the ears. 

“Don’t get used to it,” Lovett says sourly. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Tommy has to bite down a grin. He nudges his knee against Lovett’s. “I mean, not if you have meningitis. How’s your neck?” 

Lovett tips his head back against the couch, sighing. “The meningitis might have been a false alarm.” 

“No way.” 

“Shut up, Tommy.” Lovett sighs, and puts his head down on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy turns his head, surprised, and Lovett says again, grumpily- “Shut. Up.” 

“Didn’t say anything,” Tommy says, huffing a laugh. 

“You were about to. It was pre-emptive.” 

Tommy lifts an arm to slip around him and Lovett sinks into his side. “Okay, dude. Sure.” 

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Lovett says darkly, face nuzzled against Tommy’s shoulder. 

“Won’t breathe a word,” Tommy says softly. He runs a hand through Lovett’s hair and winces. “When’s the last time you showered?” 

Lovett stiffens and lifts his head. “None of your business.” 

Tommy snorts and urges Lovett back down onto his shoulder. “I was just gonna say you smell so clean and fresh.” 

“Shut up.” 

Tommy can’t stop laughing, chest hitching. He hides it in Lovett’s hair and squeezes his soft shoulder. “Okay, Lovett.”  


	2. nightmares

** #15 things you said with too many miles between us   **

-

It’s 2:30 AM when Tommy wakes up with a start, heart beating furiously in his chest. He sits up, reaches to check his pulse, hand shaking. Christ.

The room’s dark, the apartment silent except for his loud breathing as he tries to slow his heart. Shit. It’d been like two weeks since the last one. His dreams are always weird, usually leave him gnawing on them for a while the next morning, puzzling them out, but the ones that actually raise his heart rate are- the worst.

And this one was especially bad, because Lovett was in it. Tommy fumbles for his phone and scoots back to sit against the wall, opening Jon’s twitter.

He hasn’t posted in ten hours, and they haven’t texted since the morning before.

Tommy’s sure he’s fine. He knows Jon is  _fine_.

But it’s only 11:30 in LA, Lovett’ll definitely be awake. Maybe Tommy’ll just- just check. Just so he can go back to sleep.

Jon answers after three rings. “Tommy Vietor. What are you doing calling at this late hour? Need a lullaby?”

A wave of relief hits him hard, and he tips his head back against the wall. Fuck, it’s good to hear his voice. “Hey, Lovett.”

“Hi Tommy. It’s like 3 AM there, isn’t it?”

Tommy cranes to look at his alarm clock. “2:37, actually.”

“You know you can’t booty call me when we’re on different coasts.” Lovett snorts. “Time to let it go, Vietor.”

Tommy laughs, exhausted. He pulls a pillow into his lap. “I’m aware.”

“Unless you’re calling for some late night phone sex. Which Ronan tells me I’m pretty good at. We’ve been practicing.”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. “How is Ronan?”

“Fine,” Lovett says, quickly. “He’s fine. Don’t change the subject. Why are you awake?”

“Bad dream.” He swallows. “Dunno. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“And I’m boring enough to put you back to sleep. That’s sweet, Tommy.”

“You sure are. Tell me about another one of your endless fucking production meetings.”

“Hey!” Lovett says, affronted. “You should be lucky I tell you anything. This is high-level Hollywood stuff. Top secret.”

Tommy laughs, slides back down into bed. “Mm, keep talking, I’m getting sleepy.”

“You dick.” Lovett makes a slurping sound, straw rattling in whatever drink he’s finishing. Probably a Diet Coke, even though it’s near midnight. He burps into the phone and Tommy wrinkles his nose. “What’d you dream about?”

Tommy lets out a long breath, assessing. He’s too tired to lie. Maybe Lovett’ll think it’s funny.

“Dreamed about you, actually,” he says. He forces a laugh. “You were an idiot and went on a date with this random creepy guy and then - then he killed you.”

Lovett squawks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He makes himself laugh again. “So that was cool. Thought I’d call and make sure I didn’t have like ESP or something. I know you’ve been Grindr-ing.”

“That’s not a verb. And I’m alive and well.” His voice is unreadable, flat. Or maybe it’s not and Tommy’s just too tired to process it. “Alive at least. Like I’m on my fifth Diet Coke of the day and I haven’t written a good joke in three weeks, but. Definitely not murdered. Haven’t even been on any dates.”

“Good,” Tommy says, voice coming out rough. “Good to know.”

“What’d he look like?” Lovett asks, slurping his drink again. Tommy throws an arm over his tired eyes.

“The dude who murdered you?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy snorts. “Why does it matter?”

“Oh, it matters, Tommy.”

What a fucking idiot. Tommy rubs his mouth to keep the grin down.

“He was hot, Lovett. He looked like Brad Pitt.”

“Nice. And how’d he kill me?”

Tommy shuts his eyes. He can still see it. It’s helping, to have Lovett’s familiar voice in his ear, but he still feels queasy.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says.

“Tell me. Was it gory?”

“Kinda.”

“Did I get  _shot_? Was I hacked to death with a saw? Sorry, I’ve been playing a lot of Dead Island.”

“Why do you care, you fucking freak?”

“I wanna know! You’re the one who called me, Tommy.”

Tommy knows that. He always calls first. Lovett texts a lot, at random times, to whine about his shitty lunch or a boring meeting or the parking tickets he seems to get constantly. But it’s like some unspoken thing, that Tommy’s the one who calls. Maybe because he’s so busy. Lovett doesn’t want to bug him. Or maybe because, like every person in his life, Tommy needs him more than he needs Tommy.

“Tommy,” Lovett whines. “Tell me-“

“He- beat you,” Tommy says, opening his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “With like a baseball bat. Until you weren’t moving.”

Lovett’s quiet for a moment and then he says, “Jesus. And I’m the freak?”

Tommy chokes out something hot in his throat and hopes it sounds like a laugh 2500 miles away. “I told you it was gross.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t save me.”

“I couldn’t move,” Tommy says, voice going quiet. He swallows hard. So stupid. “Think I was next.”

They’re both silent, and then Lovett laughs.

“Cool fucking dream, Tommy.”

“Sorry.”

“Clearly you’re doing great without me.”

It’s a joke but it’s not funny. Tommy makes himself laugh anyway. “Clearly.”


	3. roommates era

**#8 things you said when you were crying**  

“He thinks I’m a freak,” Lovett says into the phone, tapping the delete key til the shitty line he just wrote disappears. 

Favs laughs. It sounds like his mouth is full. “You are a freak, Lovett.”

“Why’d you make me do this? Tommy needs, like, a hot girl roommate who can heal his broken heart with blowjobs, or seven therapy dogs, or both-“

“Will you relax?” Favs finally swallows whatever he was chewing. “You guys get along fine. Tommy’s not looking for a new best friend. Just keep the place clean and make sure he doesn’t jump off the roof.” 

“Yeah, it’s that last part I’m concerned about,” Lovett says, reaching for the Diet Coke he grabbed at Cosi on the way home from work. The ice is melted but it’s still good. He’s not planning on sleeping tonight so he needs it. “I’m not liable if he sticks his head in the oven, I’m saying that now.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Favs says. “He’s fine. Send me that draft you’re working on, I’ll read it before I go to sleep.”

Lovett squints at his laptop screen. The draft currently reads  _We experienced impressive job growth this quarter [get job numbers] [Say more stuff about jobs]_.

“I’ll, uh, run it by you tomorrow.”

“Lovett.“ Favs sounds warning. “Have you started?”  

The doorknob turns and Lovett grins. Saved by the overworked roommate.  

“Tommy’s home, I gotta go.”

“Lovett-“

“Bye!”

He throws his phone down and brushes crumbs off his shirt as the door swings open.

“Oh hi, Tommy-“

Tommy shuts the door behind him and shoves his face into his hands, lets out an ugly sob. Lovett freezes. Shit. Shit shit shit. Can he possibly- exit without Tommy noticing? He already said hello, but maybe Tommy didn’t-

Tommy sobs again, into his elbow this time, and then rubs his hands hard over his face and reaches to lock the door behind him. Extremely responsible, even when he’s having a breakdown. 

“Umm,” Lovett says, because silence is not his strong suit. “Hey Tommy.”

Tommy looks up at him, eyes red.

“Sorry,” he chokes. He drops his bag on the floor. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Bad day?” Lovett says, and then winces. Obviously.  _Obviously_ it was. Could he sound more like a stupid sitcom if he tried? “I mean, um. You okay?”

Tommy sobs out a laugh, starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Not really.”

There’s a lot of reasons Tommy could be crying, but there’s really only one Lovett cares about.

“Is the world about to end?” he asks, pushing his computer off his lap. “You have to tell me. You can’t just let your  _roommate die_  with no warning. Is there a nuke coming our way? An earthquake?”

Tommy’s breathing in deep, face still screwed up like he really wants to keep crying but he has to hold it back in front of Lovett. Lovett appreciates the favor, honestly. Crying is awkward. Lovett does his occasional post-work crying in his room with the door locked like a normal person.

“Shut up, Lovett.”

“So no on the nuke?”

“No nuke, you idiot,” Tommy chokes, and- shit, he’s crying again, shoulders heaving. He rubs his hand over his eyes miserably, coughs hard. “Sorry, fuck. Long fucking day.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing someone lying to their roommate about a nuclear bomb would say.”

“Lovett,” Tommy says, voice hoarse. “Shut up.”

Lovett shuts up, tucking his knees up to his chest on the couch. He’s still working out if they have like, a banter thing, or if Tommy secretly hates him and would prefer him to be quiet at all times.

Tommy finally looks up, shirt hanging off his shoulders. He’s wearing an undershirt that he’s sweated through, his eyes are puffy, and his face is pale except for the red spots high on his cheeks. He looks like a drowned baby rat. He’s not even cute. Lovett doesn’t- doesn’t even think he’s cute.

“Want to order pizza and eat our feelings?” he asks, and immediately winces. That sounded a little gay. Tommy’s been cool about that so far but Lovett doesn’t want to push it.

But Tommy just looks at him and chokes out a pitiful laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, roughly. He sniffs in hard. “Yeah, man, I’m fucking starving.”

“Cool,” Lovett says uncomfortably. “Pepperoni?”

Tommy nods, still just - standing there, looking numb and exhausted. He starts to unzip his pants and Lovett scrambles off the couch.

“I’ll call!” he says, voice going high, leaving Tommy behind to strip in the living room like a fucking freak. When Lovett’s had a really shitty day he pours TJ’s red wine into his Diet Coke and sends cryptic texts to his mom until she gets worried and calls. Apparently Tommy gets naked. Everyone has their coping methods.

-

** #12 things you said when you thought i was asleep, from the same night. **

Tommy’s eyes start drooping halfway through his third piece of pizza. It’s nearly midnight and Lovett’s typing away next to him on the sofa, wiping his greasy fingers off on his boxers every once in a while. Tommy feels a lot better than he did an hour ago, partly because he’d barely had time to mainline a PowerBar for lunch so he was woozy with hunger on the train home and partly because the steady clacking of Lovett’s fingers on the keyboard is weirdly soothing.

A lot of things about Lovett are weirdly soothing, like the way he doesn’t care if Tommy doesn’t do the dishes for a solid week, or all the crappy snacks he buys and offers Tommy, shit Tommy hasn’t had since childhood. The other week Lovett bought  _Poptarts_ , brown sugar cinnamon Poptarts like a fucking eight year old, and Tommy had two in a row one morning. He nearly had to take a nap in his office at lunch, but it was worth it. Katie didn’t buy stuff with refined sugar because it gave her a headache.

Tommy shuts his eyes to ward off that thought. Thinking about Katie is like forgetting he has a bruise and accidentally pressing on it and then forgetting  _again_ , over and fucking over.  

Lovett curses softly at the computer, hits the delete key hard.

“How’s it going?” Tommy asks, yawning, sliding down onto the sofa. He tries to stick his feet over Lovett’s thighs and Lovett squawks and smacks him away, so he slings them over the back of the sofa.

“Fine,” Lovett says, distracted. “Shh.”

Tommy blinks heavily up at the ceiling, feels sleep coming like a weight on his chest, something unknotting warm and loose in his back. He almost tears up, he’s so grateful. It’s been a rough fucking week and he’s barely slept. Lovett’s noticed a few times- stumbling out of his room to pee and catching Tommy wrapped in a blanket on the sofa at 3 AM, staring at the mute TV- but he never says anything.

Tommy knows he’s been a shitty roommate, but Lovett doesn’t seem to care. Lovett doesn’t expect anything from him.  

He shuts his eyes tight because they’re prickling again. It’s good that Lovett doesn’t expect anything, because Tommy has absolutely fucking nothing to offer right now. 

Lovett mumbles in his throat and leans forward to grab another piece of pizza. Tommy can hear him chewing.

He stays like that for a while, half-asleep and boneless, until Lovett’s phone buzzes next to him on the sofa. Tommy sighs, turns his head into the sofa cushion as Lovett says, “Yeah? What?”

Tommy huffs a laugh. His mom would kill him if he ever answered the phone like that.

“I’m almost done with the draft,” Lovett says, still chewing. “Yeah. Why the fuck are you still awake?”

Tommy smiles against the couch cushion. Must be Favs.

“Mmhm. Yeah, fine, I’ll send it.” Lovett slurps his drink, and then his voice gets quiet. “He’s fine. He’s asleep.”

Tommy opens his eyes in the dark.

“Stop worrying,” Lovett says in a whisper. “We got pizza and he passed out, he’ll live to work another day getting yelled at by asshole reporters.”

Tommy tries very, very hard not to move. He’s holding his breath.

“Yeah,” Lovett says, typing away. “No, I know. Obviously, Favs. Okay, you have it in front of you? Look at the second paragraph, third line. That part about renewable energy, is that too like, Al Gore-y? Like the speech is about  _jobs_ , not global warming-“

Tommy shuts his eyes again, letting out a shuddery quiet breath. He means to stay awake and see if they talk about him again, but sleep creeps up on him faster than he expects.


	4. sexy stretches

Tommy ran his hand up Lovett’s thigh and pushed it down to stretch his groin and Lovett made a short embarrassed sound and tried to close his legs. Tommy held them apart, reflexively, because Lovett tried to wiggle out of the tough stretches every time.

“Tommy-” 

“Breathe through it, dude.” 

“Let me go,” Lovett said, folding his arm over his eyes so Tommy couldn’t see him. His jaw was tight. Tommy looked down, confused, and saw Lovett was hard in his shorts. 

“Sorry,” Lovett said, loud, arm still over his face.

“It’s okay,” Tommy said, still holding Lovett by the thigh. “Happens all the time.”

“Just let me-” Lovett tried to wiggle away again.

“Dude, we’re almost done. It happens. Take a breath.” He gently pushed Lovett’s leg out by the knee, towards the floor. Lovett was so fucking tight, it made Tommy tense just to look at him. He was biting his lip hard, shorts still tented. 

Tommy finished the groin stretch and slid his hands to Lovett’s knees, let them come back together.

Lovett blindly fumbled for his sweatshirt and covered his crotch. Tommy let go of his knees after an involuntary squeeze. “You feel it?”

“Yep,” Lovett confirmed from behind his arm. “Thanks.” 

“Dude,” Tommy laughed. “It’s no big deal.” 

Lovett didn’t move.

“Lovettttt. Stop it.” He reached for Lovett’s knee again and Lovett jerked it away. The sweatshirt slipped off his waist and Tommy saw the bulge of his hard dick in his shorts.

He almost put his hand on it, like he’d just put his hands on every other part of Lovett’s body, stretched him out loose after their five-mile run.

He didn’t though, because that would be really weird. He swallowed and sat back on his heels. Finally Lovett uncovered his face, red by now. Tommy had to work to not look back down at his dick.  

“How’s that feel? Did that last stretch feel good?”

“It feels fine, Tommy, god. Stop acting like you’re my trainer at a gay gym.” Lovett pushed himself upright, grabbing for the sweatshirt again and putting it in his lap. He did it quickly and casually but Tommy saw. 

“Are there gay gyms?”

“Probably. I don’t know. You’re the one who lived in San Francisco.” 

Tommy pushed himself to his feet, bounced on his heels. There was this restless energy in his hands, so he clapped a couple times, and Lovett glared up at him from the floor, cheeks still flushed.

“Don’t clap at me. I’m not a fucking horse.” 

“People don’t clap at horses, Lovett.” 

“Oh, _sorry_ , Tommy, I guess I missed horse class when I didn’t go to _boarding school._ ”

“I didn’t even ride horses at Milton!” 

“Don’t you fucking tell me you never rode a horse as a youth. I know you did.” 

Tommy laughed sheepishly. “I mean, my aunt had a little stable, upstate-”

“I knew it!” Lovett cackled to himself and Tommy sighed and held out a hand that was still shaking a little. Lovett didn’t seem to notice, because he took it and let Tommy help him up.


	5. darkest timeline

** speaking of darkest timelines.... what do you think is the darkest tommyjon angst timeline?? **

i've been trying to articulate this but i’m not very good at like.. bubbling out ask-fic in this fandom yet? but, like. i’ve been imagining tommy, maybe like a year post LA-move, breaking up with his girlfriend and feeling unmoored and scared and throwing himself into work and accidentally starting up a rebound thing with lovett, who he was HIGHKEY IN LOVE WITH back in dc. tommy’s so fucking - exhausted, and lovett’s just always around, always in his space, bringing him beer and making him play video games til 3 in the morning and feeding him all the carbs tommy usually doesn’t let himself eat. 

they start hooking up a few weeks after he and hanna break up. they’re drunk and a little stoned, and it’s not until after, when lovett’s naked and asleep in tommy’s bed, that tommy lets himself remember the few times they did that when they were roommates back in DC. 

it goes on for a couple months and tommy falls right into it, heartbroken and a little stupid and craving that way lovett always drags him up from the depths of his overanxious brain. lovett’s just as lovett as ever, infuriating him, making him laugh. he sleeps over four nights a week. he has a drawer of his clothes in tommy’s dresser. tommy does his laundry, stocks up the fridge with diet coke and la croix, loses himself in the comforting ritual of taking care of lovett’s messes. favs knows, watches them like a hawk when they’re recording, but he doesn’t say anything, at least not to tommy. maybe he talks to lovett. probably. tommy doesn’t ask. 

and then hanna asks if he wants to talk, and tommy says yes, of course, please. he’d be an idiot to let that go without a fight. a week later, after hours and hours of hashing it all out, they’re together again and he has to tell lovett when lovett shows up with a six-pack of tommy’s favorite beer on a friday night. 

it was just, like, a thing. it was just something tommy needed for a while. 

a month later lovett tells them he’s leaving. favs doesn’t look surprised, face grim, but tommy feels like he’s been punched in the gut. DC, lovett says, fiddling with his napkin, not looking at them. a think tank. 

“what about- us?” tommy asks, and lovett looks up at him, wryly. tommy coughs and clarifies. “like crooked media?”   


it’s a non-question. the company’s bigger than the three of them now, offices in six cities and a handful of web series that get pretty good traffic. but they still record the podcast every single monday, the three of them, and lovett can’t just- 

“i’ll visit,” lovett says. the napkin’s shredded by now. “i’ll call in sometimes. you can get a life-size cardboard cutout of me if it helps. if you’re gonna miss me that much, tommy.”   


he lets out a sour kind of laugh and favs starts talking about plans and tommy zones out, throat hurting. 

he lets lovett go, though, because lovett isn’t his to keep. 

…… SMASH CUT TO two years later. favs is planning a run for senate in california, finally. tommy’s been all over, doing training and organizing at all their offices in the six months since he and hanna broke up for the final time, a drawn-out, horrible breakup that left him depressed for real, like, he has a therapist now, which he doesn’t admit to many people. he’s been in chicago for two months, braving it through the fucking awful winter, working 12 hours and going for freezing early morning runs by the lake, drinking with bright-eyed idealistic kids barely out of college, when favs calls and asks tommy to run his campaign. there’s no one i’d rather work with, he says on the phone. his voice sounds senatorial, though it always kind of did. 

“jesus, of course,” tommy says, because there are things you don’t say no to, and tommy’s always had a pretty good nose for them. “of course, man, thank you. who else- who else is on board?” 

[clearly lovett is on board, fresh from being some kind of DC genius whos completely changed the game on renewable energy policy. CLEARLY there’s a campaign slow burn with UST and late nights in various hotels around california, staring each other down over minibar beers, both of them still fucking insomniacs. obviously favs and emily have an adorable child by now. clearly tommy is a lil fucked in the head from his life not going as planned. obvvvviously he missed lovett so fucking badddddd. obviously the campaign reminds them of their Younger Days. ofC they stop at joshua tree at some point and eat mushrooms and figure themselves out. IDK MAN!!!!!!]

 


	6. work marriage

no offense but tommy watching lovett stress-eat donuts out of the corner of his eye as he nods patiently while lovett’s dad rants to him about [insert foreign policy issue here] while lovett’s mom bustles around the office kitchen cleaning up

-

just got sad about how weirdly domestic this is, like lovett's dad finishes his manifesto and lets tommy go, lovett’s mom tuts and pulls the box of donuts away from lovett, and tommy puts a hand discreetly on his shoulder, kneads his thumb into the side of lovett’s neck bc he can see lovett’s been tensing up. lovett kinda shrugs him off and tommy goes in a low voice, “how ya doin?”

U KNOW. JUST LIL WORK MARRIAGE STUFF.

-

i’m still on this sorry. stillllll thinkin about it. lovett and tommy and his parents grab a quick dinner before the show and tommy’s walking with lovett’s dad behind them as they cross the street to the restaurant, half-listening to lovett’s dad telling him about the middle east (again) and half-listening to lovett’s mom who has an arm around lovett’s shoulders and is saying “it’s too bad ronan’s not in town, sweetheart, it’s been a while since we’ve seen him-” 

at dinner his mom says, “so tommy, honey, remind me what your parents do?” and lovett says warningly, “mom-” but tommy steps on his foot under the table and says politely, “well my mom was a teacher, she’s retired now, and uh, my dad passed away a few years ago” and lovett’s all red and not making eye contact muttering like “mom, i’ve told you that a million times.” 

after the show everyone’s backstage, having a few beers, and tommy’s talking to andrew but looking at lovett. lovett’s telling some dramatic story that’s making everyone around him lose their shit. even his dad’s cracking a smile. tommy looks away and takes another sip of his beer.


	7. kinky sex master

a fic where lovett and tommy hook up and lovett gets a little bossy and talks really dirty and tommy like has his mind blown and thinks that lovett is a sex genius and gets fully sprung on him until eventually he’s shyly handing lovett like a cockring or something like “you’ve probably, like, done this before but i, um, i always wanted to try this” and lovett has no clue what it is and tries to put it around tommy’s wrist and eventually breaks down and confesses that he’s only good at talking nasty because he’s had a lot of virtual headset sex with dudes on xbox live or whatever

-

“So like, what the fuck was that?” Tommy asks, butting his head against Lovett’s shoulder. “Are you some kind of secret kinky sex master?” 

Lovett rolls his eyes at him, mouth full of toothpaste. 

“That was, like, crazy,” Tommy says, face flushing crimson, and Lovett laughs around his toothbrush. 

“Idiot,” he says, muffled.

“For real though.” Tommy watches Lovett spit. He grabs his own toothbrush from the cup. “Have you, uh, done that before?”

“Have I gotten a blowjob? Yes, Tommy. I have.”

“Not that, asshole.” Tommy blushes again and focuses on squirting toothpaste on his brush. “The other stuff. All the, like, dirty talk. The- the-”

It wasn’t just that, but Tommy’s not going to say the other stuff out loud. Lovett’s hand pulling eye-wateringly tight in Tommy’s hair while Tommy blew him. The way he jammed his fingers in Tommy’s mouth as Tommy jerked off after, laughing when Tommy groaned around them.

Tommy shivers a little, toothbrush poised halfway to his mouth. Lovett was, like. Brutal.

Lovett’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He gives Tommy a confused look when Tommy doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I mean-” Tommy says, recovering with a cough. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Lovett.”

Lovett’s mouth tugs up at the corner. “What, you couldn’t handle it?”

“Fuck off, I could. I can. Shut up.”

Lovett snorts and looks down, fumbling in the drawer.

“Have you done that before?” Tommy asks again, shy all of a sudden. Of course Lovett’s done that before. He probably does it with a bunch of guys.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lovett says, eyes narrowed on Tommy’s in the mirror. He pops his retainer in and turns on his heel, slams the door behind him.

Tommy presses his hips against the edge of the sink and breathes til his dick goes down.


	8. college au

** I AM HAVING SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT COLLEGE LVETT ASDFGJKL I’ve never really been into AUs but I NEED one featuring math major college student Jon Lovett, out of the closet and ready to ~find himself~, meeting PHILOSOPHY major Tommy Vietor who is supposed to be his enemy as a liberal arts student but they end up falling in love **

lovett has to take a philosophy course to be well-rounded or whatever and tommy’s in his section, holding court with all his annoying ass white boy fake deep opinions and lovett interrupts him mid-sentence like “isn’t that… completely contradictory?” and tommy’s like “sorry, what?” and lovett does like a 7 part argument against tommy’s admittedly-flimsy point and tommy’s like >:o

but then at their NEXT section, they’re talking about a new reading, and tommy’s kinda been eyeing lovett for a while and then he raises his hand and is like “actually i have something to say about last week’s reading” and he looks down at his notebook and PAINSTAKINGLY REFUTES EVERY ONE OF LOVETT’S POINTS. lovett actually starts laughing during tommy’s little rant and tommy looks up from his notebook to glare at him, and everyone else in the section is like, ??? can we move on? so they both sulk for the rest of class. 

they bump elbows on the stairs after class and lovett’s like “you know, your point about kant’s categorical imperative WOULD have made sense if you’ve never read like, any other philosopher after him, ever, which i guess you haven’t-” and tommy’s like “are you fucking KIDDING me? did you even READ the rawls piece from last week?” and they argue all the way to lovett’s next class and lovett says dubiously, “are you in… theory of ordinary differential equations?” and tommy looks up at the building in a daze and is like “no? no, i’m-  _shit_. i’m late to class, this is your fault-” and he runs off. 

(then they make out at a party idk)


	9. domestic kink

** Tommyjon humiliation**

in my heaad i play a supercut of (tommy getting turned on by innocent domestic stuff and lovett finding out and making fun of him) 

like one time they’ve both had a few drinks and lovett’s sleepy on the couch and complains until tommy like carries him to bed and gently sets him down in the mess of his covers and makes a big joke deal out of it. tucks the duvet up to lovett’s neck. fluffs his pillow. ruffles his hair. 

lovett yawns up at him and is like “can you go lock up? and let pundit out.”

so tommy trots obediently around the house finishing up chores, turning lights off, putting stuff away, thinking fondly of lovett’s scrunched-up yawn face, of the weight of him in tommy’s arms, pretending to protest. of how sweet he looks when he’s cozy in his bed, waiting for tommy to come in and cuddle him. waiting for tommy to slide into bed behind him and wrap him up and stick his nose into that warm soft spot right under his ear-

tommy stops wiping down the kitchen counter and presses his hand against the front of his jeans. jesus.  

he lets pundit back in and then he goes upstairs. lovett’s scrolling through his phone in bed, bleary-eyed, and tommy says, “hey, put it away. it’s late.”

lovett keeps scrolling. 

“lovett,” tommy says firmly, kneeling over him on the mattress and taking the phone out of his hands. “c’mon.”

lovett groans and rolls over on his side, not facing tommy. tommy sets lovett’s phone on the bedside table and shucks off his jeans and hovers awkwardly until lovett looks over his shoulder.

“come on,” he says impatiently. 

tommy climbs into bed, a little dizzy still. he can’t help it- he slots himself right in behind lovett, takes a deep breath of lovett’s smell. god it’s good. 

“i put away the dishes,” he says softly against lovett’s ear. “and wiped down the counters.”

“thanks,” lovett mumbles, sagging back into his arms. tommy closes his eyes. “did pundit poop?” 

“i think so. she took a while out there.” 

“you have to keep an eye on her and make sure she actually poops. sometimes she’ll just fuck around and then suddenly have to go in the middle of the night. and she’s been having diarrhea lately. i think it’s that vegan dog food emily bought off amazon, it has like flaxseed or something-” 

he shifts back against tommy and stops. “what the-” 

“what?” tommy scoots backward in a panic. shit. shit.   


“are you-” lovett reaches down between them and fumbles around for tommy’s crotch. tommy tries to dodge but lovett’s tiny fingers are lightning fast. “do you have a fucking  _boner_  right now? while i talk about my dog’s intestinal problems?”   


(and then obviously lovett grabs tommy’s dick through his boxers and won’t move his hand until tommy confesses all his deepest darkest secrets, like how lovett tied tommy’s apron and called him honey as a joke when tommy was grilling one time and tommy popped wood right there in the backyard)  


	10. bachelor party

** I wish you would write a fic where... one of them is way too drunk and running their mouth **

you mean like a fic at tommy’s bachelor party where they’re all staggering down a road in santa barbara or some shit, drunk as skunks, and favs is STUPID wasted (this is his one weekend away from daddy duty! he took SHOTS!) and lovett’s scolding him about being a masochist because he keeps trying to make himself throw up, and favs slurs a comeback like "pshhhhh im the masochist ? at least i didnt plan the bachelor party of the dude i'm in LOVE with", and turns out tommy’s just broken away from his college friends half a block behind them and hurried to catch up and lovett looks back just in time to see tommy go dumb and wide-eyed with shock and lovett’s like, "jesus, favs, shut the fuck up." and favs just grabs lovett’s forearm hard and is like "dude. dude-" and bends over to puke in the grass.

tommy and lovett stoically help favs back to the hotel and lovett wont LOOK at him, cant see tommy’s face right now, just focuses on favs. he's shaky like a fawn and keeps mumbling apologies for being so drunk, and tommy’s finally like, "lovett, can we- talk?" and lovett doesnt look up from where he's perched on the bed next to favs, watching him dry heave into a wastebasket.

“gotta make sure he doesnt die, that’d really kill the mood of the weekend,” he says, steadfastly refusing to catch his eye, and finally tommy goes away. 

lovett pats favs’ thigh. “you fucking asshole,” he says, quiet. favs just groans.


End file.
